As I used the hacksaw to cut through the neck and legs of my giraffe and saw my hippopotamus in half, I had to ask myself if this was the time I went too far. …
My Sideways Thoughts
A final hospital visit has ended my lung lump saga with a name: chondroid hamartoma (roughly translated as “tough nodule”). The discovery makes me wonder if we might also have instances of emotional chondroid hamartoma…
Based on the fact that I am writing this in the hospital after the biopsy, I can now say my lung lump is not a gateway to another dimension, ready to release netherworld mammals. I can also say that spending time in a hospital is great for perspective on the reasons why we blog.
As I commented previously, my lovely lung lump was to be assessed by a third opinion of the radiologist. This third opinion was decidedly indecisive as well, so I have made the call to get what they call a biopsy. For the uninitiated (to whom I belonged not so long ago), a biopsy is when they stick a needle in you and get a sample, like the counter girl at Baskin Robbins reaching into the chill box for a sample of ice cream. Only without all the flavors.
I met my lung lump quite literally by accident as a result of the cracked rib incident.
Last month, my birthday served as a good excuse as any to finally commit to engaging in this not-so-new-anymore medium of social interaction as part of a personal social experiment.